Village Woman

This poem describes what I see each and everyday on my way out to Keyo...love it!

Village Woman

Look at the woman,

Tired, hungry baby

Clinging to her back,

And she herself so tired

She drags her legs,

The firewood, bundled on her head,

Weighs heavily,

But still she trudges on.

Her skin, once smooth and lovely,

Is now muddied and dark

Her clothes are dusty and torn,

Her feet dirty and cracked.

The child cries.

With parched throat but gentle voice

She sings a soothing song.

She refuses to pity

Her aching, burdened back,

A back that has submitted to the hoe

For hours on end.

Neither old, nor ugly

She is gentle, tireless and brave.

When she reaches home

She fetches water from the well.

Lights the fire, prepares the food. There is more work in the fields

Till the sun sets.

Dear God! When will she rest?

~David Mwenga